Tis the Season to Be Sinful Read Online Free PDF

greatest.
    “The dowager house and ten acres,” she bargained recklessly.
    “Done!”
    His voice reverberated through her like a shot. Stunned, Juliet blinked down at the carpet. Had she really just agreed to sell the estate? To a Colonial businessman?
    She gazed at the wisps of masculine hair on the back of Mr. Harper’s outstretched hand. Hesitating only a moment, she grasped it firmly and shook. “We do indeed have a deal, Mr. Harper.”
     
    Richard smiled and looked down at the woman who held his hand with surprising force, uncertain which of them was more surprised. After learning the estate was part of an inheritance, he thought it was going to be hellishly difficult to strike a bargain, especially with a female. In his experience, they understood little of worldly realities and even less about business.
    Yet apparently beneath the pretty face and statuesque figure—which was curved delightfully in exactly the right places—Mrs. Wentworth was a sensible woman. Even if she did say the most outrageous things.
    Her initial hostile greeting could be explained, given the circumstances. She’d been unaware of their arrival and had suspected the worst. Richard wondered idly if she carried a weapon upon her person, thankful if she did, it was not a pistol. If she had, he and Barclay would have been in grave peril, for she certainly appeared to be the type who would shoot first and ask questions later.
    “I think a toast is in order,” Mr. Fowler proclaimed jovially. “Mr. Harper?”
    Richard reluctantly released Mrs. Wentworth’s hand. Odd, it had felt damn good resting in his. “Will you join us, Mrs. Wentworth?”
    She smiled. “Why not? I rarely drink in the middle of the day, but given the circumstances, I think it appropriate.”
    Mr. Fowler did the honors, refilling the men’s glasses and fetching a fresh one for Mrs. Wentworth. Glasses in hand, they all turned expectantly toward Mrs. Wentworth. She flushed momentarily under the scrutiny, clearly at a loss. Richard opened his mouth to save her further embarrassment, but she quickly rallied, hoisting her glass in salute.
    “To Mr. Harper. Congratulations and welcome to the neighborhood. I wish you every happiness in your new home.”
    “To Mr. Harper,” the land agent echoed before draining his whiskey glass in one long swallow.
    Barclay unwisely attempted to imitate Mr. Fowler. Tossing back his whiskey with a dramatic flair, the secretary’s eyes widened in shock as a fit of deepchested coughing overcame him. Mrs. Wentworth rushed to his side, her face contorted with concern.
    “Goodness me,” she proclaimed, thumping the younger man between his shoulder blades. “Are you all right?”
    Barclay’s face reddened. Lacking any breath to answer, he nodded his head vigorously, yet his coughing continued unabated.
    Damn, he really was going to have to rethink Barclay’s employment, Richard decided. The man was missing the sense to get out of his own way.
    “Barclay!” The secretary froze like a deer in a hunter’s sights. Richard slammed his still-full glass on the table. He took one step toward the pair, and then stopped as Mrs. Wentworth turned to him.
    “He is fine, just fine. No need to help.”
    A twinge of guilt washed over him. Her expression clearly indicated she thought his interference detrimental to Barclay’s recovery. Far worse was realizing she was probably right.
    Richard retrieved his whiskey glass and took a sip, wondering idly if Mrs. Wentworth would rush to his side if he began choking.
    Hell, where did that come from? Was it something in the country air that gave a person such outrageous thoughts?
    Leaving his still coughing secretary to the tender ministrations of Mrs. Wentworth, Richard sought out Mr. Fowler. He rapidly dictated several requisites of the upcoming sale. The land agent agreed readily to all his demands, making Richard realize he had most likely paid too much for the property.
    No matter. He could well afford it.